


you, me, and a fire extinguisher

by venomondenim



Series: venom's parkner cinematic universe [11]
Category: Iron Man 3 (2013), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst, Blood, Boys In Love, Child Abuse, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Religion, praying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomondenim/pseuds/venomondenim
Summary: Harley wrapped his arms around him. “You have your Aunt and…” he trailed off before a fierce look of determination crossed his eyes. “And you have me.”Peter blinked at him through his tears. “You promise?” He hiccuped.“I promise,” Harley assured, and then held out his pinky. “It’s you and me, Peter. If we can’t count on anyone else we can count on each other.”“Even if the world was burning?” Peter asked nonsensically, his chest heaving, and cheeks ruddy from crying.“Even if the world was burning it would be me, you, and a fire extinguisher."
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Series: venom's parkner cinematic universe [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053995
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i just worked a 9 hour shift, can barely see straight and I'm starting something new *crowd boos*.
> 
> anyways, i hope y'all like this.

When Peter was five years-old his parents died. 

After his parents passed, his entire life was uprooted. He moved schools, and moved in with his Aunt and Uncle. He went from a tiny apartment that he could barely remember, to a cul-de-sac right outside of the city. 

A month after Peter moved in, another boy moved in a few streets over. He had blonde hair, and sometimes Peter caught him riding his bike by their house. There was one day, where Peter was out in the driveway - he had just learned to ride his first skateboard, a gift of Uncle Ben, who had taken him to the park and held his elbows until he had stopped wobbling and was able to ride it on his own. 

The boy with the bike rode by, but this time he came to a halt. Peter watched him for just a second before he gave him a wide grin, showing off his missing tooth. “I like your bike!” Peter called out to him excitedly. The boy stared back for a minute before he gave Peter a smaller smile of his own.

“I like your skateboard,” the boy eventually said.

“Do you wanna try to ride it?” Peter asked him, already wanting to show off what his Uncle had taught him. 

“I don’t want to fall,” the boy said, a little unsure, but got off his bike regardless.

“I’ll hold onto your elbows!” Peter told him brightly as he ushered him over. Then Peter asked shyly, “I’ve never ridden a bike before, could you teach me?” 

“I’m gonna teach my little sister how to ride one when she gets older,” the boy told him seriously, “So this will be good practice.” 

“I wish I had a sister,” Peter said morosely, while the other boy wrinkled his nose.

“She’s okay sometimes.” 

“What’s your name?” Peter inquired as he rolled his board over to the boy. 

“Oh. It’s Harley. What’s your name?” 

“Peter,” Peter said, grinning. “I’ll hold you while you stand on the board. That’s how my Uncle taught me.” 

Harley didn’t really have any reason to trust Peter, but he also didn’t have any reason _not_ to trust him either. Harley stepped carefully onto the board while Peter gripped his elbows. That day marked a new beginning, and was one for the history books. It was when Peter and Harley became _PeterandHarley_.

Peter invited Harley over any chance that he got. They would watch cartoons together on the downstairs couch in the living room, and Peter even showed him all of the action figures he had in his room. Harley never invited him over to his house, but that was okay, Harley didn’t seem to want to be there much anyway. 

***

Peter was eleven years-old when his Uncle Ben died. The police officers had shown up at their house and talked with Aunt May in the kitchen while Peter watched her cry. 

Once the police left, Peter went up to his room. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall and wondered when Aunt May was going to die too. Then he would have no one. He stared at the wall until he heard a loud crash against his bedroom window. His heart lurched into his throat as he threw himself across his room to look outside. 

When Peter peered down he saw Harley on the ground, waving his arms. Peter hastily opened his window. “What are you doing?” He yelled, then glanced over his shoulder to make sure Aunt May hadn’t heard. He was pretty sure she was still in the living room downstairs. 

“Do you think I can climb up?” Harley called back, and pointed towards the large pipe that led right up next to Peter’s window. 

“I’ll help,” Peter told him, and almost immediately after, Harley began his climb. Once he got close to the window Peter grabbed his arms and true to his word, helped pull him through the open window. Harley fell onto the floor of his room, panting. 

“I saw that there were cops outside your house,” Harley said, sounding worried. “Are you okay?” 

Peter shook his head, and could feel tears welling up in his eyes. It wasn’t until he had been asked point blank did he feel it start to weigh down on him - crushing him. “No-” he choked out, wiping at his nose. “Ben, he’s-” Peter couldn’t even get the words out. 

“No,” Harley whispered, and Peter could see that he was close to crying as well. 

“Everyone’s dead, Harley.” Peter sobbed, and curled up on the floor. “I have no one left.” 

“Hey, that’s not true,” Harley chided, but Peter could barely hear him. “ _Hey_ ,” Harley said again, and then Peter felt him scoot over towards him so that they were sitting next to each other. Harley wrapped his arms around him. “You have your Aunt and…” he trailed off before a fierce look of determination crossed his eyes. “And you have me.” 

Peter blinked at him through his tears. “You promise?” He hiccuped.

“I promise,” Harley assured, and then held out his pinky. “It’s you and me, Peter. If we can’t count on anyone else we can count on each other.” 

“Even if the world was burning?” Peter asked nonsensically, his chest heaving, and cheeks ruddy from crying. 

“Even if the world was burning it would be me, you, and a fire extinguisher,” Harley said with a confidence that Peter didn’t feel, but still wanted to cling onto nonetheless. 

“What did you throw at my window?” Peter asked suddenly, which made Harley laugh. 

“Oh uh, a rock.” He said, while Peter sputtered. 

“We should make a system.” Peter announced with finality. “Like, one is I’m fine, I just want to hang out, three means I’m not okay, or something like that.” 

He was rewarded with one of Harley’s crooked grins. “A secret code.” His grin turned conspiratorial. “I like that.” 

***

When Peter was 14 years-old he learned that Harley’s Dad liked to use him as a punching bag. The secret code became a lot more handy, and Peter knew why Harley never wanted to invite him over.

***

One of the noticeable things that changed when Peter moved in with Aunt May and Uncle Ben was that he started going to church every Sunday. He had never gone before with his parents, but it had been non-negotiable with Uncle Ben. He would dress up, go to church, sit up straight, and be respectful. Peter didn’t have any strong feelings about God one way or the other, but when he started going to church, he had started praying. 

Then Uncle Ben had died and he couldn’t see the point of any of it. May stopped asking if Peter wanted to go, and then eventually she stopped going herself. Peter never told anyone this, especially because he couldn’t quite reconcile his feelings towards God himself, a God who would somehow take away not only his parents, but his Uncle Ben too, and call it fair, but he never stopped praying. 

Maybe it was nice to pretend that someone out there was listening, and that they cared.

***

“Okay,” Peter said out loud to his empty room. He scrubbed at his eyes and pushed away his laptop after closing it. He still didn’t feel totally prepared for his Math test the next day, but he knew when to quit before the numbers would start swimming. He laid back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly a lot smaller. “Today was a pretty good day. Although, Harley was bruised again.” He clenched his jaw. “I just. I know you have a purpose for everything, and that you work in mysterious ways and all that shit, but why? Harley doesn’t...he doesn’t deserve it.” 

Peter blew out a breath and then squeezed his eyes shut.

“I guess that’s it,” he finished, picking at a string on his comforter. “Watch out for May, watch out for Harley, and say hi to Ben and my parents for me. _Amen_.” 

With the last word, it was as if a small weight on his chest had been lifted. It felt easier for him to roll over and fall asleep.

***

Harley was _beautiful_. It was something that Peter thought on a regular basis. There were times where it hit him, all at once, like it was stopping him in his tracks. It was ever-present when they were in Peter’s bedroom after school. The sun was setting, and it peered in through Peter’s window, casting Harley in a warm glow. It bounced off his hair and graced the skin of his cheeks, catching on the hairs of his arm. 

Harley was beautiful. It was something that Peter could focus on. It was distracting. But not distracting enough to not notice the fresh shiner on Harley’s cheek.

“Is it getting worse?” Peter found himself asking, breaking the peaceful atmosphere their quiet had been upholding. Harley glanced up at him. Sometimes Harley got mad when he pressed, and other times he was resigned. Peter could never decide which one was worse. 

“It is what it is,” Harley said after a beat. 

“Right,” Peter agreed faintly, the words tasted wrong in his mouth. “It’s not fucking fair, is what it is,” Peter said with a rush venom. He didn’t know where his sudden anger was coming from, but it burned like bile in the back of his throat. 

“Yeah well, life isn’t fair, you should know that,” Harley said flippantly, and Peter flinched. “Fuck, I didn’t mean-” Harley backtracked, but Peter cut him off. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t.” Peter replied, even though he clenched his fingers together until his nails threatened to break the skin of his palm. 

“What are you working on?” Harley changed the subject.

Peter groaned woefully. “This stupid English assignment. We have to read _A Catcher in the Rye_ and I just can’t get into it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Harley goaded, his voice teetering on the slight edge of teasing. 

Peter batted his eyelashes at him and tossed him the book. “Maybe you could read it to me?” 

“You should work on your pick-up lines, darlin’,” Harley told him, but indulged him and picked up the book anyways. Peter shifted closer to him on the bed, and squirmed until Harley sighed and manhandled him into a position that was comfortable for both of them. 

Harley flipped over the first couple of pages quickly before he started reading. He got to the part where Holden was complaining about his boarding school when Peter sneakily burrowed closer. He pressed his face into Harley’s neck, and felt one of Harley’s arms wrap around him to start rubbing along his back, almost subconsciously. Peter let the familiar lull of Harley’s reading settle him into a haze.

After what could be either several minutes, or several hours, Harley’s voice got quiet and he stopped reading. “‘m not asleep,” Peter mumbled groggily, opening his eyes, although he couldn’t remember when he had closed them. 

Harley was staring at the ceiling, and Peter pulled back reluctantly, not liking the loss of his personal furnace. “We’re here for each other, through everything, no matter what, right?” Harley implored, seeming more childlike than Peter could remember him being in years. 

Peter rolled his head back so he could look Harley in the eye, and propped himself up on his elbow. He wanted to ask a million questions, like: _Where is this coming from? What’s going on? Are you okay?_ But instead, he smiled sadly, and began their old mantra, hoping that it would convey everything he was thinking, and feeling. “If the world was burning…”

“It’s you, me, and a fire extinguisher.” Harley finished. He opened his mouth and for a second, it looked like he was going to say something, but then the moment passed and he pressed his lips together. His hand fell down from Peter’s back to rest against his hip. He squeezed it once, and then again. 

They both didn’t breathe a word, but Peter didn’t relax until Harley’s grip loosened and Peter could tell he had fallen asleep. Peter watched Harley as a surge of protectiveness washed over him. Peter was trapped against him. But it was a good kind of trapped - one that he didn’t want to get away from. 

Peter brushes a few pieces of Harley’s soft hair away from his face. He continued to play with Harley’s hair as he glanced up at his ceiling. “Keep him safe,” he whispered, letting his voice break and a few tears fall. “You can start a fucking apocalypse tomorrow but, God,” he breathed in, ragged and sharp. “Just please keep him safe. _Amen_.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gross

***

Over time, Harley and Peter’s secret code developed. 

One: _everything’s okay, I just want to see you._

Two: _Things are a little rough._

Three: _Things and not good at home, and I might need a hug._

Four: _I’m not okay._

Five: _You might have to take me to the hospital/I’m two steps away from a mental breakdown_.

Peter was used to getting two rocks, and threes. There had even been a time a year ago when Harley had thrown four. When Harley’s father’s punches landed that night, he had fought back. It took nearly two days for the swelling of his eye to go down. (It took twice as long for Harley to stop flinching whenever Peter made a sudden movement.) There had never been a five though, at least, not yet. 

***

It was a little past midnight, and Peter was about to pass out when he heard a rock hit his window. “One,” he breathed out automatically, and rolled over. 

Another rock hit the window. “Two,” Peter counted, and waited. He tensed, listening for more, but they never came. There was a telltale tapping against the glass, so Peter reached over and lifted up the window. 

The previous summer Peter had rearranged his room, and moved his bed to be against the wall with the far-side window. Harley had crashed through his window so many times that half of the reason Peter had moved his bed was so that Harley would fall onto it whenever he came through. (The other half was so Peter didn’t have to get out of bed to let Harley in. They had tried leaving the window open all the time, but it had made Peter’s room drafty, and May had noticed. Peter liked the fact that most of his motivation to rearrange his room was to give Harley easier access.) 

Harley slid in through the window, with Peter’s help, and then closed it behind him. He shucked off his jacket and shoes while Peter made grabby hands at him. Harley laughed before he laid down next to Peter on the bed. “You going to bed?” 

“Now that my heater’s here I am,” Peter joked, but then started working over Harley’s arms, and face, checking for any bruises. 

“Using me,” Harley said with faux-sorrow. “Always using me.” 

“Shh, I’m scanning,” Peter shushed him, until he was satisfied. 

“The verdict?” Harley pressed, cocking his brow.

“All clear,” Peter said happily, tangling their legs together. He kissed him softly. “Hi,” he said once he pulled back.

“Hi,” Harley replied, before kissing him. “Is your Aunt home?”

Peter stretched out and hummed. “Yeah, but she has a shift at 4, so you can stay over.” 

“Wasn’t planning on leaving,” Harley said sincerely, so Peter huddled in close. 

“Mmm night,” He whispered blearily as Harley settled around him. Peter felt him kiss the side of his head, by his ear, before he shut his eyes and went to sleep. 

***

The next morning Peter had woken up a few minutes before his alarm went off. He relished Harley’s warmth, and arms around him for the few bleary moments they had before his alarm started screeching, waking them up for a boring day at school. Harley buried his face into Peter’s shoulder and groaned loud enough that Peter felt it vibrate against his collarbone. 

“We gotta get up,” Peter said mournfully, even as Harley pulled him closer. “C’mon. I’ll give you a hot fudge sundae Pop Tart.”

Harley hummed. “Two,” he mumbled, “And a kiss.”

Peter laughed. “Dork.” 

“Dweeb,” Harley replied back with no hesitation. Peter smiled, and twisted his body to give Harley a kiss. “Alright, c’mon darlin’, can’t have your ass late, now can we?” 

Peter coaxed Harley out of bed, and felt his heart swell in his chest at the image of Harley, sleep mussed, bedhead and all, sitting up in his room. Harley put on his jeans from last night while Peter got dressed. He tossed Harley one of his shirts, and giggled at how it was about two inches too short and showed off the bottom sliver of his stomach. Once they were both fully dressed Peter couldn’t help himself, so he tugged Harley towards him by his belt loops. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” He said when Harley was only an inch away.

“You just want to objectify me,” Harley told him. “I know all your tricks.” But his words didn’t hold much weight because he was cupping Peter’s jaw with both hands and kissing him. When they broke away, Harley’s smile was bright. “You tryna con me out of those Pop Tarts you promised me.” 

Peter pretended to be offended. “I would never!” Peter let Harley’s hands drop to his hips, just for a moment. Then he shrugged him off and reached for his backpack. 

Peter went over to his window and pulled the curtain back to look at the driveway. Sure enough, May’s car was gone, meaning she had already headed out for her shift. Peter also tossed Harley his jacket, which had been crumpled up near the foot of his bed. 

They headed downstairs and into the kitchen. Peter put the Pop Tarts into the toaster while batting away Harley’s wandering hands. “Hands off the merchandise! Unless you want them burnt!” Peter had threatened, but that didn’t keep Harley away.

They sat next to each other at the table while they ate their Pop Tarts. Harley was a few bites in when he got quiet and glared at the table. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter prodded, but Harley just shook his head and wouldn’t look at him. 

Peter didn’t say anything, and allowed them to sit in silence for a few minutes before Harley cracked. “Just wish every morning was like this, is’all.” Harley eventually admitted, and clenched his jaw. 

Peter tracked his face, and wished he couldn’t see the shadows of bruises all over his face, from the one’s on his cheek, his jaw, and even the black eyes he had brought over sometimes. Peter could see them even when Harley’s face was clear. Lately, Harley’s Dad had been avoiding the face. He had finally caught on that it raised too much suspicion, especially at school. Peter reached over and squeezed Harley’s hand. Right now his knuckles weren’t split, but Peter knew it was only a matter of time until they were again. 

“Only a few months until graduation,” Peter said softly, even though he knew what Harley was going to say. 

“And then what? I leave Abbie with him alone?” Harley spat back.

Peter looked away, and retracted his hand. “I know.” 

“Fuck,” Harley swore, and ran one of his hands through his hair. “I ruin everything.” 

“No you fucking don’t.” Peter said, and grabbed onto his hand once again. “You’re my favorite person in the world.”

“I don’t know why,” Harley said darkly.

Peter didn’t like that, so he got up from his chair and climbed into Harley’s lap. He placed his arms around Harley’s neck, as one of Harley’s hands came up to rest along his hip automatically. “Stop,” Peter said, just on the verge of pleading. 

Harley sucked in a breath, and then let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” Peter whispered, then said. “I just wish I could do more.” 

Harley’s grip tightened around his hip. “I don’t. I know how to handle him. You- I don’t want you anywhere near him. _Ever_.” Harley’s voice turned so low and angry that it made shivers run up Peter’s spine. 

“I wanna do more.” Peter told him, because he was stubborn. 

Harley brushed one of his curls back. “You give me that window to crawl into every night, that’s more than enough.” 

Peter’s head fell down to his shoulder. “Finish your Pop Tart, or we’re gonna be late,” he commanded, but didn’t move, and only snuggled closer to Harley. 

Once Harley was done they gathered up their stuff. Peter tossed Harley the spare backpack that he kept at his house, and then locked the door behind them. The sun was just starting to rise, and peeped up over the horizon. 

Harley retrieved his bike where he had left it at the side of the house, so May wouldn’t see it when she left for the morning. (Peter thought it was cute that Harley took precautions, even though he was pretty certain that May knew Harley slept in his bed more often than not.) He rode out onto the street, while Peter threw down his skateboard, and rolled after him. 

He pumped his leg a few times, and leaned down so he could go faster to catch up. Once he was close enough, he grabbed onto the back of Harley’s bike, so they were riding side by side. Harley smiled at him, and Peter smiled back. They only broke apart once they got to school.

***

Ever since Harley and him had made the rock code when they were kids, Peter’s been bracing for the worst. Peter had been bracing for it almost since the first time Harley had snuck over with bruised ribs, and a split lip. He made Peter promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone, because they couldn’t take him away. Their Mom was in jail, and they’d split Abbie and Harley up if they ever were to go into Foster Care.

Peter had kept his promise, even if it tore him up a little inside every time he saw Harley hurt.

He’s not expecting it two nights later. He’d finished his homework a couple hours ago, and was fucking around on his laptop. The first rock didn’t even startle him. “One,” he counted, waiting. “Two,” he whispered, shutting his laptop. The sound of the third and fourth rock hitting the window was enough to jolt Peter into sitting up. His stomach was nearly in his throat by the time a fifth rock clacked against the windowpane. 

Peter opened the window with shaky hands, and grabbed onto Harley, pulling him up and through the frame himself. They collapsed back onto Peter’s bed while Peter tried to take stock of his injuries. He had blood caked and smeared all over his face, down his chin, neck, and all over his shirt. Peter could already tell that his nose was broken. He had a two-inch cut right above his left eyebrow that was sluggishly leaking blood, and a knot on the right side of his head was already red, and beginning to bruise. 

“Fuck, baby,” Peter said as he patted Harley down fruitlessly, checking for other injuries. “We’re gonna have to take you to the hospital.” 

Harley muttered something, but between the blood, his broken nose, and t-shirt covering half of his face, Peter couldn’t make it out. Peter climbed out of bed, and opened his door. “May!” He called down the hallway. “I need you!” 

May came upstairs in a flash. “Peter what-” She said from the hallway, but went quiet as soon as she saw Harley. “What happened!”

“We have to get him to the hospital,” Peter said, dodging her question.

May sat down onto the bed and immediately went into full nurse-mode. She looked over Harley’s nose and tutted. She held up her finger in front of Harley’s face. “Can you follow my finger?” After moving it from side to side a couple of times she turned to Peter. “I think he has a concussion.” 

Peter made a choked off noise, and the look May gave him was pitiful. “If we take him to the ER we’re gonna need his insurance card. Do you know where that may be? Does he have one?”

Peter fluttered around his room uselessly. “It might be in his wallet?” He said, unsure. 

Harley started saying something from the bed, but neither May nor Peter could understand him. “Snack pack?” May said, confusedly.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Backpack!” He breathed frantically, and scrambled down the stairs to get to where Harley’s spare backpack was. Sure enough, as soon as he started digging he found Harley’s wallet. He only kept a few things in there so it wasn’t too hard to find his insurance card. Peter thanked God that he had one readily available. 

When Peter got back up to the bedroom, Aunt May was helping Harley stand up, but was mostly supporting his weight as Harley groaned. “It’s okay,” Peter told him, even though it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. He went to Harley’s other side, so him and May had him fully upright and secured. 

“Let’s get him into the car,” May instructed. 

They carefully got him down the stairs and through the foyer without much trouble. Peter held Harley up as May got on her jacket and car keys. Peter climbed into the backseat of May’s car first, as May ushered him into the backseat as well. Harley laid down with his head in Peter’s lap, as Peter cradled him, making sure to keep him still. 

The whole car ride to the hospital was mostly silent. Peter brushed his fingers through Harley’s hair while he did his best not to cry. May shot him a few glances through the rear view mirror, but blessedly didn’t say anything. Every bump and corner they went over had Peter wincing in sympathy as Harley groaned in his lap. 

“We’re almost there, baby. I promise.” Peter whispered quietly, trying to keep his voice from catching. 


End file.
